Jeanie Adams, 28 year old only daughter of Mr and Mrs Albert Adams of Acacia Drive, Amblehurst, had a reasonable middle ranking career for which she was far too intelligent, and a healthy interest in sex. With the help of several boyfriends she had gained what she considered to be a pretty comprehensive knowledge of physical love in all its various incongruities and deliciousness. The men were often initially shocked to find that anybody as obviously popular and attractive as Jeanie could possibly be interested in them, but for most this feeling which was swiftly replaced by an enraptured delight.
At the moment Jeanie was lying face down on her bed, idly wondering whether to go to the movies the following day and what she would like to do next with Jonathon's penis, which she had been absent-mindedly playing with in her mouth for some time. She liked Jon. She could not quite remember when they had first become friends: somehow he had been around the periphery of her adult life, it seemed, for as long as she could remember; at school in the sixth form, during University holidays, in the pub. She liked his shy humour, the kindness with which he spoke about the children he taught, and his anxiety (she was pretty certain misplaced) that he was getting it right for them. And too, she liked the way his hair was all floppy over his forehead, his broad shoulders and firm, fit backside. She rolled her tongue around the bell of his prick until her thoughts were disturbed when she heard him first sigh, breathe more heavily with pleasure, and she tasted his first dribble of precum.
"Not yet, lover boy, she said." Jon groaned in pleasure and anticipation and she looked up at him. With one last flick of her tongue over the purple end of his penis, which sent him shivering with pleasure, Jeanie rolled over and placed her knees on either side of him across his belly, grinding her nowmoist pussy into his body briefly before wriggling her way up the bed so that after some moments of tongue-enlaced kissing, she had manoevred herself so that she was squatting over his face, supporting herself with the help of her left hand grasped around the bed-rail.
Jon strained his head up eagerly to move his tongue to the lips of her pussy, but she was too fast for him and closed her hand over the place he sought. "Lie back and watch" she said, and raising herself so that she was just beyond convenient reach of his tongue, began her plan to masturbate for him while denying him contact for a while. This, she reckoned, would have the desired effect of prolonging the proceedings while at the same time introducing just enough of an element of kinkiness that, with a bit of luck and some prompting, might lead to what she thought of as some too-rarely visited backwaters of sexual behaviour. The thought made her giggle briefly as she drew her free hand up to part herself for him to see.
"You like that? Do you want to see me wank it? Jon's eyes looked glassy with desire: she could see they were fixed between her legs and she giggled again. "Watch", she said again, and moved her fingers up to her clitoris, deftly parting her pussy's lips and tracing circles around its still-hooded but increasingly firm projection. She teased him, lowering herself close down to his face and mouth and lingering for a moment before snatching away from him as she let him see her and she felt his desire grow. With this a delicious sense of her sexual authority overcame her and she felt her nipples harden further and her internal pathway ache for him. She suddenly wanted him all over her, inside her everywhere. She pushed two of her fingers inside her vagina, almost standing over him, knees bent, one arm now resting on the wall for support so he could gaze right onto her. She moved her fingers in and out. "Look at me fucking myself. You want to do that? Look how far in it goes." She pushed hard, palm flat against the mons veneris and Jon made that kind of strangulated noise which in Jeanie's experience was Man for that things were going very much OK, thank you.
Jeanie could see that he was wanking himself with expert slowness, and this pleased her, for she could tell that while he was trembling on the brink of the edge of orgasm, he had regained control and they could continue at such a state - which her increasing excitement meant that she would soon have to allow herself to reach also - for some long time. Withdrawing her finger, she held it to his face. "Smell my wet pussy. You want to taste?"